


Study Break

by lastwingedthing



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastwingedthing/pseuds/lastwingedthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray looks at Nate wide-eyed. "You don't sound happy to see me, sir! Where's the love?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Study Break

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Porn Battle VIII.

Nate's already starting to regret agreeing to have his study group around for dinner – they've just spent the past five hours cramped up in a tiny room in the library studying together, why the fuck did he consent to taking them home with him after that – when he sees the man sitting slumped at the top of the stairs to Nate's apartment. Even from a distance, he's obviously familiar, but he's in the shadows and for some reason it's taking a long time for Nate's brain to start working and figure out where the hell he knows him from.

Then the guy opens his mouth.

"Jesus Christ, sir, it's about fucking time! I know you were a goddamn pansy-ass officer, but I was under the sad delusion that you had held onto enough of your Marine reconnaissance skills to figure out your way back to your own apartment sometime before my balls froze off. Guess I was wrong about that one, huh?" He pauses for a breath; in the interval, Nate has come close enough to recognise the familiar skinny, dark-haired profile, but he doesn't need visual conformation at this point.

_Christ_.

"Hello, Ray," he says evenly. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

Ray looks at him wide-eyed. "You don't sound happy to see me, sir! Where's the love?" He pauses, and then grins widely. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" He's looking over Nate's shoulder, to where the rest of the study group is bunched up behind him. "Some people might say that taking home _four_ hippie Ivy League pansies at once is a little bit extreme, sir, but it's okay, I understand. You're just out of the military, and all that repression isn't good for anyone. Sometimes a guy just needs a little homosexual orgy." He makes a face. "At least no-one's actually fucking dogs or children or Trombley or anything. Now that would just be fucked up."

Behind him, Dave makes a choked noise. "What the – do you _know_ this guy, Nate?"

Ray raises his eyebrows at Nate, and Nate feels his mouth twitch. Okay, maybe this could be kind of amusing.

"You never answered my question, Ray. Seriously. What the hell are you doing here?"

Ray shrugs. "The dickwad I'm staying with found this new girlfriend, been fucking her all day. I didn't want to listen to that shit, and then I remembered our former C.O was off being a fucking intellectual pansy somewhere in this fine city, so I rang up Brad, and he laughed like the psycho motherfucker that he is and gave me your address." He pauses, considering. "Brad's kind of sadistic, huh?"

It's – actually, it's totally surreal to be standing here on his front step in _Boston_, discussing Brad fucking Colbert with Ray Person, but it's good as well. Sometimes, back at home in the routines of classes and study and trips to trashy bars with guys who think they're being edgy by slumming it, it feels as if the war never happened, as if Nate had never been a soldier, never fought or killed or risked the lives of men under his command. It's fucked up, but he doesn't know how to change it.

Ray breaks into Nate's reverie. Of course he does. Ray is a perfectly designed and trained machine with the ability to drive anyone in a thirty-metre radius absolutely fucking _insane_.

"Seriously, sir, are you going to let me in, or what? I wasn't kidding about my balls dropping off, and you wouldn't want to be responsible for that kind of tragedy, would you?"

Nate laughs a little as he comes up the last steps and reaches over Ray for the door. "What's with the sir? You have realised that neither of us are actually in the military any more, haven't you?"

Ray makes a face. "It's sad, sir. I miss having a legitimate excuse to kill people. Although when you think about it, we weren't actually allowed to shoot the biggest retards over there, and in that situation giving us heavy weaponry but not letting us use it was just cruel and unnecessary torture. Worse than Brad's fucking peanut butter."

Nate is not going to ask. "Are you expressing a desire to shoot your former commanding officers, Ray?"

"Fuck yes!" Nate looks at him. "Uh, present company excepted, sir. But seriously, can you look me in the eye and say you've never been possessed with the desire to let off a couple of rounds right into the back of Captain America's tiny peanut brain?"

There's a long pause. Nate tries not to meet Ray's eyes.

"Ha! Damn fucking right. That was fifty percent of my fucking combat jacks, right there."

"My combat jacks involved fantasies about pussy, Ray, not homicide. It's a little redundant to say, but you are fucked up."

"Yeah, whatever, that too. Pussy and blowing up Captain America. And blowjobs."

Nate just laughs again. Then he remembers, and looks down the stairs. Dave and the rest of them are huddled down there, looking shellshocked and staring up at him. _Crap_.

"Look – Ray's from the Marines, he was in the platoon I commanded, we've got a lot of catching up to do. Can we call a raincheck on the dinner? Maybe sometime next week?"

Ray snorts. "Yeah, catching up," he says, not nearly quietly enough. "Is that what you're calling it when – "

Nate claps a hand over Ray's mouth – and jesus, that was a mistake; Ray doesn't bite, he _licks_ – and smiles brightly, propelling both of them through the door.

"I'll see you all Monday!" And what a fun occasion that will be, trying to explain Ray – and by extension, Force Recon and the entire Marine Corps – to a bunch of people who mostly seem to be pretending that Nate was never in the military at all.

Not that Nate's going to be explaining _everything_ about Ray Person. The door clicks as it closes behind them, and Ray meets Nate's eyes for all of five seconds before he's dropping to his knees and shoving Nate back against the door. Nate's legs slide open automatically: by now it's an almost Pavlovian response. Ray Person on his knees means that both silence and mindblowing oral sex will be occurring in Nate's immediate future; it's pretty much a perfect combination.

Ray doesn't bother using his hands to get Nate's jeans open – the little showoff – just rubs his face against the seam and then starts tugging at the button with his teeth.

"Hi, Ray," Nate says. "How've you been, how's your job going, yes, college is fine – " He loses the sarcastic tone on a long exhale as Ray slides the zip down, and then Ray scoffs and pulls back for a moment.

"You wanted fucking foreplay, sir, you should have stuck with your pussy Ivy League friends. I was in fucking Recon, I – "

Nate sighs and takes hold of Ray's head, tugging him forward again. His hair's grown longer; Nate approves. Gives him something to grab onto.

"Shut up and suck my fucking cock, Ray."

Ray smirks widely. "Oh yeah. That's more like it." He makes a soft hungry noise and sucks lightly at the cotton stretched over Nate's cock; after a moment, he slides it free of Nate's underwear and starts teasing at the head, trailing his tongue gently in circles.

Nate shifts restlessly. "Ray – "

He makes the mistake of looking down. It means that Ray has eye contact as he stops playing around and swallows Nate all the way down, it means that Nate doesn't just feel himself suddenly engulfed in warm wetness and perfect suction, he can see it, as his cock disappears into Ray's mouth, as Ray's pink lips stretch obscenely wide around him.

Under the circumstances, Nate feels perfectly justified in thrusting a little.

And the thing about Ray is that when Nate indulges in what most people would consider horribly bad manners, his eyes flutter closed and he _moans_ around Nate's cock.

The thing about Ray is that he likes it rough and _hard_. It wasn't particularly shocking, when Nate actually thought about it, to discover that Ray was a kinky little fucker with basically no limits whatsoever, but it still turns Nate on, every time, to rediscover just how much Ray _likes_ it. In the right mood, Nate can get Ray on his knees and fuck his face, take him as roughly as he likes until Ray's choking and fighting for every breath, and Ray will get off just from that, without anyone so much as touching his cock. Ray likes to get tied up – and not just vanilla wrist-handcuffed-to-the-headboard stuff – and he loves to get fucked, as hard and as often as possible.

Actually, Nate has plans for that last one that he aims to execute sometime in the next couple hours, plans that involve bending Ray over his kitchen table and fucking him until he screams. It's not like this thing with Ray is actually a _thing_, he doesn't know which of them would laugh more at the idea (except that really he does know, Brad would be near-hysterical for _days_), but that doesn't mean that he hasn't had the occasional idle thought about putting the table, which happens to be exactly the right height for such purposes, to good use. It's nothing but efficiency, really. It's simply important to ascertain whether his estimates of factors such as relative sturdiness were correct.

That can wait, though. Right now he's got Ray's mouth wrapped tight and hot around his cock, and it's pretty fucking distracting. Ray's breath control is truly impressive – Nate thanks God for United States Marine Corps training all the time, although both God and the Corps would probably strenuously object to the uses Ray puts it to – but he's still starting to gasp a little around Nate's cock, moaning in a way that Nate can feel more than he can actually hear.

Nate's starting to moan himself. It's wet and messy, saliva starting to run down Ray's chin, and every time he slides his cock forward he can feel the muscles in Ray's throat contract. It's so fucking good.

He's still not quite out of it enough not to notice when Ray's right hand suddenly disappears from where it's been resting on his hip, though.

Nate grabs it back up from Ray's lap, glaring. "Don't you fucking dare," he snaps. He's using his officer voice; for a while it was disturbing when it accidentally came out during sex, but now it's just hot. Or more specifically, Ray getting off on Nate's officer voice is hot. Nate still tries not to think about it too much.

True to form, Ray starts whining helplessly around Nate's cock; the vibrations feel really fucking good. Nate grits his teeth and closes his eyes and tries for just a tiny scrap of self-control – it's embarrassing, how short a time Ray's really been down there – but it's pretty much a lost cause. Ray changes the angle and rate of suction somehow and moves his tongue, and yeah, that's pretty much it, that's all it takes. There's a stretched-out moment of blissful mindless thrusting, and then the world goes white.

When he comes back to himself, Ray's sprawled out on the carpet on his back with his legs splayed open, staring up at Nate and licking his lips. Licking Nate's come off his red, swollen lips. Nate's cock gives a halfhearted twitch.

Ray's also still hard, the front of his jeans bulging obviously. He blinks up at Nate, mouth opening – and goddamn it, but Nate hadn't finished enjoying the afterglow yet, and now Ray's going to start _talking_.

He lowers himself so that he's straddling Ray, in a way that is completely smooth and in control because Nate is not in the slightest bit still weak-kneed, dammit, one hand going up to cover Ray's mouth while he cups Ray's cock through his jeans with the other. He feels a shiver run through Ray's body, and then Ray's arching up to grind against Nate's palm and biting hard at Nate's other hand and he must have been most of the way to coming already, because that's all it takes.

After a moment, Nate slumps sideways off Ray to the floor beside him; there's not much room in the hallway, but they manage to fit themselves in. Barely.

Ray is actually quiet for about three minutes, but then he starts shifting restlessly. Nate sighs; he'd been enjoying the silence.

"You better have a washing machine, Nate. You fucking asshole, you just made me cream my only pair of jeans."

Nate snorts. "Don't worry, Ray. Even Boston has figured out the mysteries of the laundromat."

Ray grins sunnily. "Good. You can wash them, then."

Nate chooses to ignore this. There's another long pause in which Ray is completely silent. It's really kind of amazing.

Then Ray starts to laugh. "I can't believe you were inviting those assholes round for dinner. Hey, does that mean you've got fancy gourmet shit in your fridge? 'Cause I'm starving, seriously. Your dicksmack isn't gonna do it."

Nate feels his mouth twitch. "I'm a grad student, Ray. I was going to order pizza."

Ray shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You're letting your side down, Nate. Hanging around with Marines – whiskey tango trailer trash, Mexicans and crazy Hebrew motherfuckers, you'd better be careful or they'll take your rich overeducated white guy card away."

Nate snorts. "_I'm_ a Marine, Ray." He pauses. "Was a Marine. Shit. You know what I mean."

Ray half-smiles, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah." They're both quiet for a moment.

Then Ray rolls over so that he's facing Nate and stares at him for a moment, raising his eyebrows. "So how long until you can get it up again and fuck me?"

Nate just laughs.


End file.
